The deeper Nero and Helia ran, the colder the air became. The hum of machinery faded behind them, replaced by a silence so thick it felt as if the Archive itself held its breath.
The corridor they stumbled into was coated in dust, untouched by footsteps for years—maybe decades. Faint holographic panels flickered half-dead against the walls, showing fractured schematics of rooms that no longer existed.
Helia slowed, her breathing sharp but controlled. She scanned every shadow with her baton raised.
"We're out of the active sectors," she whispered. "That's why it's quiet."
Nero nodded, though his heart calmed but still the echo of the Architect's voice lingering like a bruise.
"That thing behind us," he said, "the Reconstruction Unit… what does it do?"
"Locate, restrain, return."
Helia hesitated before answering. "It only exists for prototypes. Meaning you."
Nero swallowed hard. "Why would they need something that big to retrieve one person?"
"Because prototypes are unstable, they are hard to capture," Helia said quietly. "Even now, your core fluctuates when you're scared or stressed. The Unit is designed to contain that by force if necessary."
She didn't sugarcoat it. She never did.
They continued walking until the corridor opened into a larger room—once a workspace, judging from the scattered datapads and broken tables. A cracked holographic board flickered with static symbols.
Helia moved toward it, brushing her fingers across the surface. The panel sparked faintly alive.
"Nero…" she whispered.
He stepped beside her.
The board displayed a diagram of a body—no face, no name, just a humanoid outline marked with circles and notes. Lines traced the chest, arms, skull. And in the center…
A glowing point. Familiar.
Nero's heart thudded painfully. "That looks like my core?"
Helia nodded. "These are construction notes. Very old ones."
He traced a shaking finger near the diagram—careful not to touch the surface. The symbols beside it trembled, flickering between languages Nero didn't understand and ones he vaguely recognized.
"All this…" Nero whispered, "was about me?"
"No," Helia said softly. "Not just you."
She pointed at the bottom of the board.
There were numbers.Zero to twelve.
Nero blinked. "What are those?"
"Batch identifiers," Helia said, voice tightening. "May be versions or their attempts."
Nero's breath caught. Cold spread through his limbs.
"So there were others," he whispered.
Helia didn't speak. She didn't need to.
He stepped back, staring at the numbers as if they could answer him by simply being there.
"Helia," he said, his voice unsteady, "how many lived?"
She hesitated.
Nero met her gaze—frantic, desperate. "Tell me."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"From what i think the number is zero."
Silence hollowed the room.
Nero swallowed hard, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness choking his chest.
"I'm the only one?"
"Yes."
"Because the core killed them," Nero said hollowly."Like it almost killed me."
Helia took a step toward him. "Nero—"
"No." He backed away. "Let me understand this. They tried eleven times before me. Eleven children. Eleven failures."
Helia closed her eyes.
Nero felt the world tilt. He braced a hand against the wall, his palm trembling.
"I'm not special," he whispered. "I'm just… the last attempt."
"You're the first success," Helia corrected, firm but gentle.
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
"Nero—"
He turned away sharply, anger and fear twisting inside him.
The room dimmed for a moment—lights flickering as if reacting to the instability inside him.
Nero forced himself to breathe.
But the lights flickered again—this time brighter.
Helia's eyes snapped up. "Nero… did you do that?"
"I'm… trying not to," he said through clenched teeth.
The lights pulsed.
Once.Twice.
Then the wall behind Nero… changed.
Not opened.Not slid aside.
Changed.
Like it someone thought of having a door and simply became one again.
Nero froze.
Helia's grip tightened on her baton. "That's not a distortion… that's a forced reconstruction."
"What does that mean?" Nero whispered.
"It means the Archive wants you to see whatever's inside."
That didn't comfort Nero at all.
But he felt drawn to it—pulled by a sensation he didn't have words for. Something between dread and familiarity.
Helia stepped beside him. "I'll go first."
"No," Nero said quietly. "This is… mine."
He pushed the door open.
The room inside was small. Still. Not dark—lit by a soft teal glow.
A stasis pod sat at the center. Cracked. Inactive. Dust-covered.
Nero approached slowly, his steps echoing in the tiny space.
Helia followed behind him, silent.
His fingers brushed dirt from the nameplate.
Everything stopped.
"NERO VALE — PROTOTYPE 12"
Helia exhaled sharply. "Nero…"
He didn't breathe.He couldn't.
"That's me," he whispered."That's… my pod."
Helia stepped closer, her hand hovering near his back but not touching. She knew better—knew he needed space but not distance.
Nero touched the cracked glass.
A faint echo—like a memory trapped—brushed the edge of his mind.
A child's voice.His own voice.Faint, trembling.
"It's cold… don't leave…"
Nero recoiled, breath hitching.
Helia caught his shoulders, steadying him.
The voice faded, replaced by silence.
Nero stared at the pod with a hollow ache forming in his chest.
"This is where I woke up?" he whispered.
Helia shook her head. "Prototype pods aren't used for waking. They're for containment."
"So I was… locked inside."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"We don't know," she said softly.
Nero swallowed a lump in his throat. "Helia… if this is Prototype Twelve… where are Eleven, Ten, Nine—"
He didn't finish.
He felt the answer before she even breathed it.
Gone or erased. Or simply they were killed.
Helia whispered, "Nero, we don't have to stay here."
"No." Nero gently pulled away from her grip."I need to understand this."
He placed both hands on the pod.
The teal glow flickered.Recognized him.
And for a moment—just a moment—Nero felt the faint outline of another hand overlapping his.
A memory.Old.Faint.
Someone gripping the pod from the outside.Someone whispering to him.
"Stay alive."
Nero staggered backward, breath trembling.
Helia grabbed him again, this time firmly."Nero. Look at me."
He looked.
"You are not a failed prototype," she said."You are not an experiment. You're here, you're alive, and you're fighting. That's more than any of the others ever got to do."
Nero's voice broke. "I don't know who I am anymore."
Helia touched his cheek gently.
"You're Nero," she said softly. "And that's enough—for now."
Before Nero could respond, the corridor behind them shook violently.
The Reconstruction Unit had found them.
Helia's eyes widened. "We need to go. Now."
Nero took one last look at the stasis pod—his beginning—and then turned his back to it.
And he ran.